


champagne problems

by bydayorbynight



Series: break up song [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29057841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bydayorbynight/pseuds/bydayorbynight
Summary: “What do you mean, ‘no?’” Michael finally said, the diamond glistening obscenely into the charged silence, his lowered knee digging painfully into the ground.Alex looked surprised at his own answer, mouth agape as if the word had escaped from a deeper consciousness. A darker one.—Alex says no to a very important question.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: break up song [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112414
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	champagne problems

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by champagne problems by Taylor Swift

“What do you mean, ‘no?’” Michael finally said, the diamond glistening obscenely into the charged silence, his lowered knee digging painfully into the ground.

Alex looked surprised at his own answer, mouth agape as if the word had escaped from a deeper consciousness. A darker one.

“I can’t...I can’t do this right now,” he managed to say.

Michael stood up from his knees defeatedly, limbs creaking under the weight of something other than age.

“Can we at least talk about this, Alex?” It came out a little more desperately than he had liked.

“No, I just...I just need to go.” Alex strode out of the room quickly with the front door swinging wildly behind him. The crunch of the tires fading away signaled his official exit. Michael’s head dropped of its own accord, and he brought a hand to his face as if to stem the ugly emotions.

It was then that Isobel slowly crawled out from behind the couch on all fours, clutching a bottle of Dom Pérignon and looking up at Michael with a sheepish expression. He tried to respond with a look of irritation but couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes.

“Michael...”

He, too, was out the door before he could hear the end of whatever she was going to say. And it was probably for the best, because for once, Isobel was at a loss for words.

* * *

Michael didn't really think much of the Chevy at first. It was the cheapest thing he could find at the time, a nearly lost cause that he had barely scraped by to get. It served its purpose by being purely functional, for getting from point A to point B, and later he also realized it made a better home than his actual house. But it was Alex who had warmed up its insides, imbued it with a sense of meaning, and gave it some emotional resonance.

Now it was a holding cell of his own making.

Because he wasn’t sure what would be worse, the bustle and rancor of the Wild Pony on a Saturday night just a week before Christmas, perhaps just loud enough to drown out the noise inside, or the deafening silence of the desert stretched out before him, rendering his aloneness in sharp relief.

He opened his wallet to see how many shots of well whiskey he could spare, only to be met with the picture. The fucking picture. He’d seen it so many times, just two kids, two guitars, too young and dumb to know what was coming for them. It never failed to strike him straight in the heart. For a long time, that feeling had just been one of enduring pain, but more recently it had been an overwhelming sense of love that filled in the cracks that history had bore.

There were just enough dollars in there that he chose the bar, and immediately it was the wrong choice. He had spent enough time in his indecisive state that Isobel had beaten him there, lingering outside the entrance in couture like a, well, alien.

“How did you know I was here?” Michael asked with a sigh when he approached her. 

“You’re...predictable,” Isobel said, trying her best to curb her usual sarcasm with him. “And no, I didn’t read your mind.”

He didn't say anything, just stared at the ground, the gears in his brain at a standstill.

“You sure you want to go in there?” She asked softly.

He looked up at her and tilted his head sadly. “I don’t know, Iz.”

Her arms swallowed him in a fierce embrace. “You guys will figure it out.”

“I just don't get it. We were doing so good,” he said, his words muffled in her shoulder.

“No matter what happens, you’ll always have me,” Isobel said as she released him.

“I know.” 

He didn’t want to say it, and he felt selfish and ungrateful for thinking it. But without Alex, it would never be enough.

The bar held little appeal by then and Michael felt like a child again, stranded in limbo with no place to call home. It was a disorienting feeling, one that he had filed away under the past, one that had no business resurfacing here, now.

Isobel seemed to know what Michael was thinking. “Let’s go to Max’s. Sleepover. Just like old times?”

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t quite say no. The energy to resist had left him, and he finally noticed how tired he felt. He barely remembered how he ended up on Max’s floor, the three of them in sleeping bags encircling the coffee table. It was almost just like old times.

* * *

By the morning, Michael’s sadness had congealed into something more approximating anger. It was sturdier, less prone to damage.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that the ring was still in his pocket. He took it out as he sat at Max’s dining table, unsure what to do with it. Its presence now felt offensive, but he didn’t want it in his pocket either. The only place he had wanted it was around Alex’s finger, and he would have settled for it being worn on a chain around his neck for a more subtle presentation. Little did he know that neither would end up being an option.

Max soon joined him at the table as Isobel continued to sleep.

“How are you doing?” He asked quietly.

“Just swell, you?” Michael answered with as much sarcastic enthusiasm as he could muster.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I can’t believe he reacted that way.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t need reminding. Alex’s reaction was already playing through his head nonstop like a haunted VCR with no eject button.

“I don’t know. Sometimes war just...does things to people.”

Michael scoffed. “I’m well aware of that, Max, thank you. It’s not like I’ve known Alex for half his life or anything.”

Max tried not to take it personally, the lashing out. He knew Michael was hurting, and it was rare for the two of them to talk about their feelings like this. Like brothers. “You’re right. You know better than anyone why Alex might react this way, war or otherwise.”

Michael didn’t dwell too long on the sentiment, too lost in his anger to see that maybe Max was on to something. Instead he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “If reincarnation isn’t some made-up Earth bullshit, I must have really fucked something up in my past life.”

“That’s a little dramatic, it’s just...”

“I swear to God, do not finish that sentence, Max. I really don’t feel like rehashing your epic saga with Liz right now.”

That shut Max up. “Sorry.”

Michael exhaled loudly. “It’s like we’re just caught up in this vicious cycle, and every time I think things will be different this time, it’s not. It’s the same fucking thing. I’m literally insane, right? Doing the same thing, expecting different results?” His eyes were wild now, voice escalating. “I guess I should consider myself lucky, right? That at least this time we had, what, a year of happiness before the other shoe dropped?”

“You need to talk to him.”

“No, he can come talk to me, how about that?”

“I know you think you’ve been doing the same thing, but you haven’t, Michael. You’ve changed, and I mean that in the best way. It’s not some stroke of luck that you guys spent the last year being happy together. You worked at it. You’re angry right now, which, I get, but at the end of the day, you’re way beyond playing some game of chicken to see if he’ll talk to you first.”

Michael didn’t say anything for a while, opting to just toy with the ring on the table absentmindedly.

“I put a piece of the console into the ring.”

“You what?”

“Just a tiny piece. You can’t tell unless you look at it really closely.” He sighed. “My mom’s not here anymore. But I wanted to think she’s still a part of this, in some way. Marriage is, like, a joining of families, or whatever. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He wanted to toss it out the window, into the desert, but the thought of it never finding its way to its rightful owner filled him with unfathomable pain.

“I know you don’t want my advice, but you and Alex are not that different.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You give your love easily, but when it comes to accepting that love back...”

“Okay, I liked you better when you were just reading Kafka. No more romance novels for you.”

“Just talk to him and you won’t have to hear from me again.”

“Well, in that case...” He smiled despite himself. “Thanks, Max.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t ever again.”

* * *

The room was so quiet, Alex could have sworn he heard the sound of Michael’s heart breaking like glass.

The rustling behind the sofa confirmed what he had suspected when he had first walked into the room. There had been a plan.

And Alex wasn’t ready.

Michael had been acting strange the last few days, weeks even, but Alex had shrugged it off, too afraid to confirm what it meant. But once Michael began his speech, shaky and unrehearsed, complete with mentions of cosmic love and star analogies, Alex knew it was too late to turn back. Then the bent knee. The _ring_.

“You said what?!” Rosa shrieked.

Alex cast his eyes downward at his milkshake. “I didn’t even know that was going to be my answer until I saw him kneeling there with the ring in his hand. I freaked out.”

“Okay...”

“I just had this thought that, I was ruining him, you know? It sounds crazy, but I didn’t want him to be like, stuck with me for the rest of his life?”

“I love you Alex, but that is legit, certifiable, crazy-pants shit right there.” Rosa laughed sharply. “And trust me, I know crazy.”

“It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, but that was seriously a part of it.” Alex put his head in his hands. “And then the other thing I was thinking was just how devastating all our breakups have been. Like, I could barely survive them. Can you imagine if we got divorced?”

“Okay, so what you’re saying is that you’re a self-loathing commitment-phobe.”

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that.”

“Maybe it really is that simple, Alex.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I feel this way. And honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. I’ve already put him through so much, and now this proposal...what if I can’t stop hurting him?” He looked distraught.

“Do you love him?”

“I mean, yes. Of course,” he replied quickly.

“Sometimes it really is that simple.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be taking relationship advice from a teenager.” It was both a joke and a deflection.

“Last time I did the alien pod math, I think I was actually 21, but okay. Your loss.”

Alex laughed, not thoroughly convinced.

“Look, Alex. It’s your fear of hurting him that’s actually hurting him. Have you ever thought of that? It’s not like, a fundamental part of your soul or something. You’re not broken.” 

“I didn’t say that.”

She looked at him empathetically. “It took me a long time to figure that out too.”

* * *

Michael’s plan was originally to extend some grace. But when he finally set foot in Alex’s house (or was it still theirs?) and saw him pacing in front of the stockings hung above the fireplace, it sent Michael back to when he was standing there in that piercing silence, frozen in place. Abandoned.

He turned his palms up in question, and the edges of his mouth curled up into a defensive smile. “Everything was going so well. What more did you want?”

Alex turned to look at him, appearing sadder than Michael had ever seen him, and he felt bad that it gave him hope. That Alex was torn up about what had transpired between them meant a reconciliation was on the horizon, right? But then again, maybe it meant he was about to end things for good, and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach again.

“Michael...”

“You know, I used to think about our future, a lot. And if you had told me it was going to end this way, man...” He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and sighed. 

The energy around Michael was dark, volatile, but Alex stepped into it despite his reservations and grasped at the flannel edge of his shirt.

“I don’t want to end things, Michael,” he said softly. He could feel the slow release of tension.

Michael looked at him with mournful eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

Michael exhaled forcefully and placed his hand on Alex’s. “I’m sorry for not talking to you about it beforehand. I know you don’t like surprises.”

“It’s okay. What the fuck? _I’m_ sorry. I thought I was past being cruel to you and then I went and did it again.”

“You weren’t being cruel.”

“Okay fine, then I reacted badly, and if I could take it back I would. It was...” Alex shook his head. “I’m not a good person, and I don’t want you to put me on some sort of a pedestal.”

“You’re good, Alex.”

“You’re biased.”

“Of course I am, but that’s not the point. You’re always going to be good, even when you feel like running away. Even when you’re killing me by thinking you’re saving me or something like that. Because you don’t have to do anything to be good. You’re Alex. And that’s all I want. I just want you. And you’re good, just as you are.”

Alex was speechless for the second time in as many days, but this time it was for an entirely different reason.

“Look Alex, we don’t have to get married. It’s a stupid institution anyway. I didn’t even want to get the government involved in the first place.” He ran a hand through his tangled hair, which looked like it hadn’t been tended to in days. “You know, things were going so well, and it’s all Iz’s fault really, she got me watching all these fucking videos with proposals and _flash mobs_ , which I hate, by the way, but then I went down this rabbit hole...”

“Michael. Michael!” Alex was grinning now. “I want to get married, I do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Michael fumbled to fish the ring out of his pocket for the last time and slid it onto Alex’s ring finger, who laughed.

“I hope you know I’m not going around town wearing a diamond ring around my finger.”

“I thought you loved wearing jewelry. All those septum rings...”

“That’s _hilarious_.”

“Should we go, uh, consummate our marriage now?” Michael tilted his head towards the bedroom with a sly smile.

“Pretty sure that’s after the...um, never mind. Yeah, let’s go.”

The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled into the empty living room.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated <3
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://bydayornight.tumblr.com/).


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